Cooking With Elsie
by Hogwarts Duo
Summary: All she wanted to do was cook for her husband. All he wanted was to share a nice, quiet meal alone with his bride. What happened was not what either of them expected. Then again, maybe that was for the best. My take on cooking gate with Elsie, Charles, and Beryl Patmore.
**A/N:** Like many of you, cooking gate irritated me, though not in the way it annoyed the majority of the fandom. My frustration stemmed from Elsie's best friend sending home raw lamb when she knew her friend lacked culinary skills. This story is AU, but I hope you will enjoy my version of …

 **Cooking with Elsie**

The evening had been nothing like what he'd envisioned in his mind. Absolutely nothing at all.

He'd pictured walking home with his lovely bride, talking about the events of the day, breathing deeply the cool spring air, stopping along the way to pick a bouquet of wildflowers for their table. He imagined opening the door and kissing her sweetly on the column of her neck, the sensitive spot just below her right ear that made her shiver. He had to smile when he thought about her giggling the first time he'd discovered that sweet little area.

He had planned to do a few things around the house while she prepared their meal. He would get the firewood inside so the bedroom would be ready later that evening, the sitting room would be nice and toasty for their after dinner leisure time together. Charles had hoped to read a little to her this evening since he knew she had a little mending to do. Perhaps, he could persuade her to simply curl into his side, abandoning her sock darning for another evening, maybe even an afternoon at Downton Abbey so they could fully enjoy their time together.

To be fair, he was certain she had not anticipated the turn of events, either. True, she had done more than her best to appease him, to take every comment and gesture in stride. He had watched from the kitchen table as she bustled about with the pots and pans, looking so very pretty but also flustered. It was a look he'd never seen from her before now. Looking back, he hoped he never saw that look again.

Now, sitting on the edge of the bed, he waited for her to emerge from the bathroom. After their failed attempt at dinner, Elsie had announced she was rather tired and was going to bed instead of sitting up with him for a bit. Rather than facing the sitting room alone, he followed her upstairs, feigning tiredness, too. He urged her to take care of her nightly routine first, hoping it would earn him at least a small smile, though he was not to be granted one this evening.

As she entered their room, he was surprised to see her wearing one of her winter nightgowns, one that covered her almost from her throat to her toes. He had seen her unpacking them one evening as they sorted through boxes, but until this moment, he'd never seen her wearing one of them. She had always opted for the prettier ones, the ones with the shorter hems and lower necklines. Without a single word to him, she quietly walked to her side of the bed, slipped inside, and drew the blankets as tightly around her as possible.

He opened his mouth to say something but fear made him stop. He wasn't sure what to say or how to remedy the situation. Elsie was the one who normally made everything better. She was always the one that knew how to start a discussion after they had had a disagreement or a falling out. But now, it was up to him to set things right between them. He just needed a few moments to gather his thoughts, to work out where he'd gone wrong, and then to reassure her that he was very repentant for his words and deeds. So, he gathered his pajamas and went to the bathroom to change for bed and to brush his teeth, giving him some much needed time to work on his speech.

When he emerged from the bathroom, his heart shattered as he caught the distinct sound of his lovely wife crying softly into her pillow. On one hand, he could count the number of times he had seen her or heard her crying, so to add this evening to that very short list broke his heart. He knew, now more than ever, he had to find the correct words to make everything right in her world again.

He slid into bed beside her and rolled onto his left side. Her back was to him but he could practically feel the tension radiating from her body as she tried to quickly and discreetly dry her eyes. He gave her that brief moment before he gently placed his hand on her shoulder, his thumb rubbing slowly across her shoulder blade.

"Please, Elsie, don't cry. I know my words sounded harsh earlier, but I did not intend for them to hurt you."

In response to his comments, she pulled away, scooting a little closer to her side of the bed. Part of her was wounded by his words but the majority of her tears were caused by her own sense of failure.

When he'd first mentioned having dinner at their cottage, she was overjoyed with the prospect of spending extra time with her husband. She had longed to share a little bit of domestic life with him. Cooking dinner for her handsome husband, sitting by the fireside sipping wine and talking about their day, taking his hand and leading him to their bedroom. She still had a few pretty nightgowns that he hadn't seen. She thought, maybe, she might wear the pale blue one with the lacy edges. They weren't expected back at the house until after breakfast so they could enjoy a longer evening than usual.

But none of that was meant to be. The more she thought about her situation, the angrier she grew.

" _Are these done enough?"_

" _Yes. Shall I fetch the vegetables?"_

" _This plate's cold, which is a pity."_

" _Ah, what's this?"_

" _What do you think? Bubble and squeak."_

" _As a vegetable with lamb?"_

" _I like it with lamb."_

" _Well, we mustn't let it get cold."_

" _Hmm. This knife could do with sharpening."_

And that had been the final straw for her. Once more, hot tears began to slip down her cheeks. She had failed, and now she would have to go back to work in the morning and face Beryl Patmore. When she had asked for the hamper, she'd never thought about what might be inside. Her friend had mentioned leftover paté and chops but Mrs. Patmore had neglected to mention that the lamb chops would be raw. To Elsie, the word "leftovers" meant that they had been cooked previously so she was incredibly surprised to find a plate of raw lamb and no cooking directions when she unpacked the basket.

She should have called it a night right then and there, confessed to Charles that she wasn't skilled in the kitchen and that their dinner might be less than perfect. But, her pride had taken hold of her head and her heart. Admitting defeat, even to her husband and her best friend, was not an option. She convinced herself that she could push through and make them both proud, and herself, too.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts that she didn't feel Charles shifting closer to her until his arm slipped over her waist and drew her back towards the middle of their bed. His tender touch and his warm hand resting upon hers caused her tears to fall harder than before. By the time he found the courage to tilt her head back towards him, her cheeks were wet and her eyes were closed shut, unwilling to see the disappointment in his eyes.

"Hey, love, what's all this about?" he said, gently wiping away her tears, only succeeding in causing more to fall. "Talk to me, Elsie, please. I know I was wrong at dinner, though I promise you I meant no harm by any of it. I was trying …"

"You were trying to tell me I am a failure in the kitchen, Charles. I know that now. I don't need you to tell me that."

He rubbed his thumb across her lip to keep her from biting it, an old habit that he normally found very endearing. "That was not what I was going to say at all, love. You misunderstood me. I was trying to be complimentary, in a roundabout way … focusing on the positives."

She scoffed and rolled onto her back, daring him to challenge her.

"It's true. I never said the lamb was raw. I merely asked if it was done enough. You said they were so I didn't question you further. I will admit to being shocked by the bubble and squeak, but I was prepared to eat it with the lamb. I commented on the knife because it was clear you could see that I was having trouble cutting through the meat."

"And the plate being cold?" she asked, her eyebrow raised in a silent challenge.

"Yes, well, that was a criticism, but one that I promise you will never happen again in this household. Cold plates are of no consequence when it comes to keeping my wife happy and free from tears." He leaned over and kissed her sweetly on the lips, a kiss whispering his heartfelt apology, screaming his love, and swearing to make amends for the evening. He pulled his lips away from hers and quickly kissed her on the tip of her nose. "Please, tell me why the tears. Surely, this isn't all because of dinner?"

Elsie closed her eyes and reigned in her emotions. If she expected Charles to be open and honest in their marriage, she had to be willing to follow the same set of rules. "I wanted tonight to be so perfect for us, Charlie. You suggested dinner at our cottage, and I was so excited. It was our first evening to be truly domestic. Me cooking, you working on things around the house, maybe doing the washing up together before settling in with a glass of wine and a book. But, I couldn't even cook a proper dinner, which put us both in a bad mood." She waved her hands over the bed and around the room. "And now, here we are … have the morning off tomorrow, and I'm in one of my old nightgowns and crying my eyes out over a piece of lamb and a serving of bubble and squeak."

Charles dared to laugh at his wife's representation of the evening. "True, it's not how I envisioned it, either, when I suggested having dinner here, but we certainly won't starve. And I'd rather be here with you and give up my dinner than to be dining on the heartiest stew at the Abbey but not sharing my evening with you."

"How can you say that? I ruined your dinner and made us both miserable for the rest of the night."

"You haven't ruined anything, Elsie. True, dinner wasn't what either of us had planned. Speaking of which, why did you choose lamb to cook for a first meal in our home? Is there some significance that I'm unaware of or a preference you haven't mentioned before?"

She shook her head and sighed. "I asked Mrs. Patmore for a basket and she mentioned paté and chops. I thought they were already cooked, and I'd just need to warm them in the oven. I didn't know they were raw until I pulled them from the basket. By then, it was too late to ask for directions, and I was too ashamed to admit to you that I wasn't sure how to prepare them." Elsie felt tears starting to pool in her eyes again and her voice dropped to a near whisper. "I suppose I'll have to own up to my failure tomorrow when she asks about the meal."

Charles could see his wife's wounded pride reflected in her eyes and it was like a stab to his heart. "You leave Mrs. Patmore to me, and from now on, when we ask for a basket, we will make sure to check it before we leave the house. Or better still, we can stop by the Grantham Arms and have a bite to eat out every once in a while. That way, neither one of us has to cook or do the washing up," he said, giving her side a little tickle until she was laughing and squirming out of his reach.

"I love you, Charlie, and I'm sorry about making such a mess of our night at home."

"You haven't made a mess of anything, Elsie. But, I am glad we got this sorted. Tell you what, why don't you change into one of your prettier nightgowns, and I'll be right back. I have an idea that I think you'll enjoy." He kissed her quickly on the lips then slipped out of bed and left her wondering where in the world her husband had gone. Instead of lingering on the whereabouts of Charles, she quickly got up and changed her nightgown to the one she'd originally intended to wear, the pale blue one.

She had just settled back in bed, sitting up against the pillows and waiting patiently for him to return, when Charles entered carrying a small tray.

"We didn't eat much dinner tonight, so I thought a late night snack would be in order. I have a nice bottle of wine, some bread and cheese, a little butter in case you'd prefer that, your shortbread biscuits, and my slice of pie. I thought, instead of a sit down meal, we might have our first little picnic in bed. How does that sound?"

Elsie's eyes sparkled as she smoothed out the blankets, making a space for him to set the tray and then to join her. "Sounds like a perfect ending to a rather rocky evening. Thank you," she said, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

For the next hour, Charles and Elsie sat side by side, feeding each other various bits of food, sipping wine, chatting about their day. They also made time to share little touches, tender kisses, warm words of love and happiness which went a long way towards mending the hurt feelings and wounded pride. By the time Charlie turned off the light, there was little doubt in either of their minds that the pretty nightgown and his pajamas would be cast aside as the newlyweds began a more intimate dance.

The following morning found Elsie and Charles in much better spirits. Together, they made their bed and dressed quickly for work, though not without stealing a few additional kisses and naughty touches. Breakfast was a combined effort. Elsie effortlessly managed the toaster and tea while Charles scrambled eggs and set the table. But, as they ate, he could sense a shift in Elsie's mood … one to unease.

"Are your eggs not to your liking?" he asked as he watched her shift them around on her plate.

"No, they're delicious, actually. My mind was just elsewhere for a moment."

"You're wondering how to face Mrs. Patmore this morning, aren't you?"

She stared at him with an open mouth. "How did you know? Or was it that obvious?"

He reached out and took her hand in his. "It's only obvious to me because I know you, and we discussed it last night. I told you last night, but apparently it bears repeating … you leave her to me. I have an idea."

"Does it involve begging her to give me cooking lessons or bribing her to send us home with fully cooked meals that I only need to reheat?"

He cupped her chin in his hand and grinned. "It involves nothing of the sort. And, even if we only ever had bedside picnics like last night in this house, I will be a happy man because I am sharing them with you. That, my girl, is all you need to remember today." He stood up and pressed a kiss to her forehead, letting his lips linger as he willed all of his strength to her in that moment. "Now, if we don't get out of this house and down the lane, they will be serving lunch by the time we arrive." He gave her a smile and let his fingertips brush against the nape of her neck as he passed on his way to the kitchen.

As soon as they entered the back door of Downton Abbey, Elsie went straight into her sitting room and closed the door. The longer she could put off speaking to her friend about the disastrous meal, the better. She had just removed her hat and coat when she heard the familiar greeting of Mrs. Patmore as she addressed Mr. Carson. Curiosity getting the better of her, Elsie crept to the door and opened it just enough so that she could overhear what was being said.

"And how was your dinner last night, Mr. Carson? Did you enjoy the lamb?"

"Ah, yes, about that. I must apologize. You see, as Elsie was preparing it, I proved to be quite the distraction to her. By the time we sat down to eat our dinner, it wasn't quite edible. I do apologize for wasting the cut of meat, though. Had I realized what I was doing sooner, I'm sure the lamb would have been lovely."

Beryl felt her cheeks warm as thoughts and images of her friends in their little cottage came rushing, unbidden, into her mind. She could only imagine what those two must have been up to as dinner cooked to have made the lamb inedible. "And the bubble and squeak? Mrs. Carson said she was going to serve that as her side. I tried to … "

"That was delicious. She knows it's one of my favorite dishes. While we would not normally have chosen to have it with lamb, it was certainly a surprise. I must say, though, that we were both a little eager to retire for the evening so we only took a few bites of it before going upstairs to bed." He gave her a moment to fully digest the words, to grasp the wrong end of the stick, before continuing. "The late night snack we shared, though, was perfect. The bread, wine, and cheese made a delicious little picnic. We have decided to do those more often."

"Have you, now? Well, that's nice, isn't it?"

"It truly is, and we thank you for preparing the basket for us. If it isn't too much trouble, though, in the future, if you wouldn't mind … could you send us home with something that we can simply reheat? If we could simply warm up dinner, it would save us a great deal of time in the evenings and give us more time for other things around the house." He gave her a warm smile. "I'm sure you'll understand. Mind you, we won't need a basket every day. I've promised Mrs. Carson we'd go out occasionally to the Grantham Arms for dinner as a special treat, maybe even to Ripon if we both have the night free."

Mrs. Patmore was speechless. This was not what she expected at all. She had assumed that there would be a few difficulties in the kitchen. After all, she hadn't known Elsie Hughes to cook more than a few pieces of toast in a decade or more. Now, Mr. Carson was standing before her extolling the cooking virtues of his wife. And speaking of … "Where is Mrs. Carson this morning? She isn't avoiding me for some reason is she?"

Elsie tensed up, thinking back to the conversation the night before and at breakfast. She wondered how on earth Charles was going to answer such a direct question. She tugged her bottom lip between her teeth and leaned a little closer to the opening in the door, not wanting to miss a word of her husband's reply.

"Of course not. She's in her sitting room, most likely wishing she had a fresh pot of tea. We were up much later than usual last night since we weren't required here at breakfast. And then this morning we had a bit of a … delay … again my fault entirely. She's likely glad to have a bit of peace and quiet for herself this morning," he chuckled. "Tell you what, would you mind making up a tea tray for her? I'll go put my things away and check in with Mr. Barrow, then I'll come back and take it in to her myself … a way of making amends for my misdeeds so to speak. I'm sure she'll want to catch up with you at some point today as well to thank you for the basket."

"Yes, I'll get a tea tray ready for you and when you take it to her, tell her I want to hear all about last night's dinner."

Charles shook his head and grinned. "Now, now, Mrs. Patmore. You know my wife is not the sort of woman to kiss and tell. She will likely give you an abbreviated account of dinner, much as I have done. And we wouldn't want to embarrass her, me, or you, either, for that matter with details of cottage life."

Elsie had to put her hand over her mouth to keep her laughter from spilling over, giving away the secret of her eavesdropping. When Charles arrived a few moments later with a fresh pot of tea, Elsie closed the door behind him. She waited just long enough for him to set the tea tray on the table before taking him by the lapels of his jacket and kissing him firmly on the lips, kissing him until they were both breathless.

She snuggled into his arms and hugged him tightly to her. "You are a wonderful man, Charlie, and I love you ever so much. Thank you for what you did out there with Mrs. Patmore."

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tightly in his arms, giving her a little squeeze and a pat to her bottom. "I merely told the truth. What she chooses to take away from those simple statements is not any fault of ours," he teased. "Now, you'd better get to work. She will be in here sooner rather than later to have a little chat with you about last night. Just make sure, when you start talking about me, that you tell her how very … attentive … I was to you. That should squash any further questions from her for a while," he said with a roaring laugh as he left her sitting room.

That night, as Charles and Elsie made their way back to their little love nest, he wrapped his arm around his wife's waist and hugged her to his side. "I trust you looked in the basket before taking it from Mrs. Patmore?"

"I did and it's exactly as I requested," she said proudly, leaning into his side and relishing the comfort she felt from that simple closeness.

"And what are we dining on this evening, love?"

"Beef stew, crusty bread, a wedge of cheese, and for dessert … apple tarts that she made fresh for me today. I told her how you thoroughly spoiled me yesterday and that I was hoping she could help me return the favor."

"Brains, beauty, and sass … all in one woman. I really am the happiest and luckiest of men, Mrs. Carson."

 **THE END!**


End file.
